


Lilies on the Table

by Iamsweden



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Anxiety, Bro Code, Everyone Has Issues, F/M, Family Issues, Gen, Genderfluid Character, Honestly it's college so expect a lot of moral quandries and life searching, Light Drug Use (usually weed or regular cigarettes), M/M, Nonbinary Character, Slow Burn, Trans Male Character, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:52:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24766489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iamsweden/pseuds/Iamsweden
Summary: The bottom half of the dorm sported an empty section presumably up for grabs. A folded piece of paper with unintelligible writing sat propped up on the bare mattress. The rest of the lower space, save a messy gray bed and barebones desk, looked like the set of a mid-century film. Black and white movie posters covered the walls under soft glowy fairy lights. Three vintage cameras sat lined up on a small bookcase that housed more VHS boxes and DVDs than books. An old fashioned record player sat on the desk. Although it wasn’t currently playing, a record sat ready for action.And, last but regrettably not least, a blonde man with broad shoulders and a sinfully muscled back stood just feet in front of Arthur holding a mug of coffee, dressed in nothing but short pale blue boxers and fuzzy house slippers.Arthur lost his grip on his suitcases and they clattered noisily on the room’s laminate flooring. The man--oh God, hopefully not a roommate?--jolted in surprise, whipping around. He looked Arthur over, then cracked a crooked grin that just spelled disaster. “Ah! Bonjour! You are Arthur, non?”He wondered if it was too late to ask Alfred if he had a roommate.
Relationships: America & Japan (Hetalia), America/Belarus (Hetalia), Austria/Hungary (Hetalia), Canada/Prussia (Hetalia), China & Russia (Hetalia), England/France (Hetalia), Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), South Italy/Spain (Hetalia), more to be added as we go - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 26





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a Hetalia College AU by hetahonda on tumblr.
> 
> It has been a HOT minute since I wrote anything for Hetalia, and this is the first time I'm publishing on AO3 instead of FFN, so please have patience if some formatting stuff goes wonky for a bit.
> 
> As for the setting of this AU, New Rome University and the surrounding town is heavily based on my own undergrad college. I'm recycling dorm and building names and modelling the landscape loosely to my campus. But seeing as how I went to a super small all-women college, there's still a ton of differences.
> 
> Enjoy!

Arthur Kirkland fumbled with his keys, cursing the day he decided to move in during a thunderstorm. Rain ran cold and slick down his collar--you’d think him used to the ill weather after living in London most of his life, but the storms in America were something entirely different. The air felt as heavy as the rain fell in sheets. Cracks of thunder echoed across the mostly empty campus. A few other bloody idiots were out and about as well, stubbornly trying to finish their move. The biggest idiot of them all, Alfred F. Jones, willingly stood out in the storm with nothing but a ball cap and wind breaker on. He’d been out for as long as Arthur had been on campus, helping folks move into their dorms and apartments. Naturally he extended his services to Arthur, “his favorite step-brother,” but Arthur didn’t need the bleeding yank’s help.

If he were any less prideful, he’d actually admit this was a bit of a pickle and appreciate an extra set of hands. But, alas, the Kirklands were a stubborn, hardy bunch. He finally popped the door open--the issue was less the lock and more the crooked frame that caught the door--and shuffled inside. A bland hallway marked with neat, uniform oak doors met him on the other side. To his surprise, this dorm had carpeting. At least he wouldn’t slip and fall to his death in here. 

“Three-oh-four,” he murmured, hunting for the elevator. If this dorm were anything like the last one he lived in, the elevator would be hidden in an obscure corner to make life on this godforsaken hilly campus even more hellish on disabled students. Readjusting the duffle on his back and getting a better grip on two rolling suitcases, Arthur trudged to the very end of the hall, took a left past the laundry area, and finally peeked into the correct weird alcove.

Also like his old dorm, this elevator hardly felt up to code. He grimaced the whole ride up and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut that he would die in this shuddering, creaking metal coffin.

Honestly. If renowned author Latoya Michelson wasn’t head of the English department here, Arthur would have switched to a different university after the first torturous year. Every dorm he’d had the displeasure of visiting was in desperate need of repair or refurbishing. He could stomach the cafeteria food, but only just--more often than not, Arthur cooked his own meals in the meager dorm kitchen. If the damn stoves on this campus _worked_ , perhaps he wouldn’t trip the fire alarm so often, either.

Arthur stopped outside his new dorm, 304, and took a deep breath. His roommates could already be inside, and he wanted to make a good impression. Most of the students in this dorm were upperclassmen. Having them on his side would be advantageous.

He unlocked the door, pushed it open, and immediately stopped.

There was… so much to take in. A giant French flag hung up above the large arched windows caught his eye first and immediately pissed him off. Several stacked boxes of various kinds of beer neatly sat in the corner of the room, right beside the carpeted staircase that led up to the loft where two of his roommates would live. The staircase itself had a crowded line of rubber ducks, each different, taped to the handrail. Upstairs, someone strummed an upbeat diddy on an acoustic guitar. The bottom half of the dorm sported an empty section presumably up for grabs. A folded piece of paper with unintelligible writing sat propped up on the bare mattress. The rest of the lower space, save a messy gray bed and barebones desk, looked like the set of a midcentury film. Black and white movie posters covered the walls under soft glowy fairy lights. Three vintage cameras sat lined up on a small bookcase that housed more VHS boxes and DVDs than books. An old fashioned record player sat on the desk. Although it wasn’t currently playing, a record sat ready for action. 

And, last but regrettably not least, a blonde man with broad shoulders and a sinfully muscled back stood just feet in front of Arthur holding a mug of coffee, dressed in nothing but short pale blue boxers and fuzzy house slippers.

Arthur lost his grip on his suitcases and they clattered noisily on the room’s laminate flooring. The man-- _oh God, hopefully not a roommate?_ \--jolted in surprise, whipping around. He looked Arthur over, then cracked a crooked grin that just spelled disaster. “Ah! _Bonjour!_ You are Arthur, _non?_ ”

He wondered if it was too late to ask Alfred if he had a roommate.

\---

“We can match our stuff and have a super cute room and get some loft beds so we can build forts underneath and I can ask nonno to give me a table so we can set it by the window here and we can eat pasta together and--oh, Ludwig, it’s just _perfecto!_ ”

To his credit, Ludwig offered his boyfriend a weak smile. Anyone else would have run screaming from the bouncing Italian. If Gilbert wasn’t an awesome big brother and didn’t have half of Feliciano’s luggage in his hands, he would have turned tail and ran. The Beilschmits, two years and a dorm apart, followed Feliciano inside. “Carpenter Dorm is the pits,” Gilbert scoffed at the cramped brick room. Except for the massive paned window in the middle of the wall overlooking the lawn, the dorm almost looked like a prison cell. “You two should have opted for King with me and the guys!”

Feliciano belly-flopped on his bed, bouncing lightly. “It’s a four-person dorm and we’d make five. Plus you guys have to share one bathroom, right? Keep it clean and stocked and deal with it smelling bad all by yourselves? We have the janitors keeping ours nice. And besides, King dorm doesn’t have good lighting like this one! There’s that big hill behind it. This is the perfect place to work on my art! And Ludwig looks really hot when the sun hits his hair!”

Ludwig blushed and quickly set about unpacking his things. _Gott im Himmel_ , maybe this was a bad idea. Last year, Feliciano roomed with his brother Lovino while Ludwig lived next door with Kiku Honda, the best roommate he’d ever lived with. Very neat, polite, quiet. But then damn Alfred F. Jones stole his roommate, Ludwig refused to live with Gilbert and his chaotic gaggle of roommates, Feliciano looked at him with his doe eyes and offered to be his roommate instead, and--well. Everyone on campus knows you can’t tell Feliciano Vargas “no.”

Feliciano was so excited over the summer, too. He made a million and one plans while Ludwig listed which were most reasonable and tweaked them to work in accordance with school rules. Except for one. But that surprise would come later. Ludwig couldn’t help but smile to himself as he made up the bed and taped up his few posters and pictures from home. Unlike Feliciano, Ludwig didn’t bring many things with him besides the essentials. He didn’t see the point, really. Student Council and his classes took up so much of his time--why would he want to spend most of his meager downtime locked up in his dorm?

But Feliciano. Feliciano wanted--needed--his half of the room to look exactly like home. He and Gilbert hung up a dozen paintings and drawings on the wall, showered the bed with expensive silk sheets and four layers of plush comforters and blankets, and rolled out an actual Persian rug gifted to Feliciano by his rich grandpa back in Rome.

Walking on it was sacrilegious, so Ludwig took care to step around the rug to join the unpacking party. Next item on the order of business: organize Feliciano’s desk. Ludwig nearly had an aneurysm the first time he saw Feliciano’s desk last semester. His textbooks sat in a tattered pile on one corner of the desk, mixed in with food magazines, manga (that he probably borrowed from Kiku or Alfred and forgot to return), and empty food containers that thankfully had been washed. Strewn about the rest of the flat surface were various mugs of paint water, days old coffee, and a piteous mixture of the two. A few paintings or drawings congregated under the mugs, but at least Feliciano cared enough about his art to keep them tidy in his bulging portfolio bag. Trying to organize that thing would take weeks. Ludwig loved the boy, but that was almost a job too difficult for him.

Which is saying something, since he’s majoring in mechanical engineering.

“Ooh, Luddy, Gil, it’s beautiful!” Feliciano burst, throwing at arm around either brother’s shoulders. He pulled them close and kissed them on the cheek. “Thank you so much for helping me move in! I’m going to call _nonno_ and see if Lovino is done moving in and then I’ll come back and make some pasta for dinner! Oh, and I’ll make some for Francis and Antonio and your new roommate, too!”

Gilbert cursed at the mention of his new roommate. He checked his watch and cursed again. “Francis said he was almost done moving in, and I gotta be there for the Bro Code breakdown. Text me when you got the food, Feli. Ludwig, treat this boy right or I’ll have to kill you.”

“Gil--” Ludwig’s words fell on deaf ears. His brother zipped out of the room, breaking into a reckless sprint down the hall. A dozen exclamations of surprise and annoyance followed him out of the dorm. Ludwig shook his head. “Feliciano, I’m going to see how Kiku is moving in. Remember to take your keys with you and don’t forget to lock the door behind you. Do you remember our room number? It’s 212.”

“I know, I know, I know,” Feliciano chanted, pushing Ludwig out the door. “I’ve got it all on my phone! Tell Kiku I said hello! _Ti Amo, ciao!_ ”

As he stumbled outside, one of the ingrates further up the hall wolf whistled. Ludwig narrowed his eyes at--ah, okay, Matthias Kohler. His roommate Nikolaus would take care of him in five, four, three--

Moving like a Norwegian ninja, Nikolaus Bondevik slipped out of the room, slapped the back of Matthias’s head, and yanked him by the arm inside, ignoring any and all protests. They were an unlikely but reliable pair, and Ludwig greatly appreciated that. If only Matthias could get his shit together and actually take his role as treasurer on the student council more seriously. He wouldn’t get his hopes up, though. Matthias was elected because he campaigned for more co-ed dorms and looser alcohol rules.

 _Gott_. Ludwig already had a headache. He hoped Kiku had some tea on standby.

\---

“Yao, are you napping?” Ivan Braginski popped his head into their room and stage-whispered. In the corner of the darkened room, under a mass of assorted stuffed animals, one Yao Wang slowly sat up in bed. He blearily rubbed at his eyes. Ivan grinned wide and tiptoed further inside. Before his roommate had time to process, well, _anything_ , Ivan shoved a flower pot in his face.

Yao pushed the pot away from his face to get a better squinting look at it. A small, budding marigold. A very good choice for them, should Ivan actually manage to keep it alive and thriving--marigolds had several homeopathic benefits and Yao could make tea with it. “This will look nice on the window,” he finally determined, nodding up at Ivan. His roommate positively beamed.

Braginski hopped over to the window and flipped open the blinds--immediately scorching Yao’s eyes. The storm from earlier had abated, and now blasted sunlight poked through the clouds and drilled into his corneas. He hissed in a breath and fought the urge to hide back under the covers. But he was awake now, and Ivan probably wanted to catch up after a summer apart. Of course they’d maintained communication over text and email, but they usually just exchanged memes. Ivan interned at his local hospital over the break, keeping him busy, and Yao juggled with wrangling his extended family and making more plans for his restaurant. He had a good estimate of the cost of opening the first restaurant, already had a menu and prices mapped out, and had sketched some advertisement ideas he’d have to run by Kiku later. As soon as he graduated this year, Yao was ready to take over the world with economical but delicious Chinese cuisine.

“What time is it?” Yao asked. He joined Ivan, marvelling at his new pet project. With the better lighting, Yao noticed the flower pot had sunflowers painted around it. A small sun and rainbow poked behind the towering flowers. Leave it to Ivan to bring a little sunshine into the room.

“Ah, I believe it is almost dinner time. The cafeteria will be crowded--if you want, we can go downtown instead? I have missed the pho place.”

Yao had missed Snapdragon Pho, too. Not only was it delicious, but everything on the menu cost less than ten dollars. It was the perfect distraction from college food and life when he wasn’t in a cooking mood. And after his crazy early morning flight and hurried move-in before the storm hit, Yao wasn’t in a mood to do much at all.

There was something about this campus, though, that revitalized him, like a shock to the heart that woke him out of the stupor of normalcy. This wasn’t Beijing, this was a hilly university on the outskirts of a tiny American city. These people weren’t bustling natives, they were displaced students trying to get by. They were friends, and once this year was over and his time here done, Yao would miss them. He’d miss all of them.

Though he was loath to admit it, he’d miss his big, weird Russian roommate of three years the most.


	2. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur comes to terms with his fate, Matthew makes a new friend (?), and Lovino tries to drop out of college on the first day.

Arthur couldn’t help but let his mind wander back to that damn letter his dear roommates left him. The message haunted his Sunday evening, popped up in his dreams, and distracted him in class the next morning. Good thing the first day is always syllabi and nauseating ice breakers. 

For some masochistic reason, he’d kept the letter folded up in his pocket all day. Perhaps in hope of running into Alfred and asking him _What the hell?_ Because Alfred had to be acquainted with these hooligans. He knew _everyone_ on campus. Arthur caught himself before he pulled out his phone to text the yank. No, he wasn’t that desperate yet. And his roommates had yet to enact any of their bogus plans. It could just be a practical joke. Three friends putting on a show for the new guy.

God, he hoped so.

Cursing himself, Arthur unfolded the note and read it again--hoping to find some kind of answer? An assurance that this was a joke? Who knew.

The miscreants took turns writing the threat. After a quick introduction, Arthur quickly deduced who wrote what.

_Hello, New Guy! We lived in this awesome dorm last year and got away with skimping on a fourth roomie. Sucks we couldn’t do it again this year, but that’s cool, because we made the unanimous decision to graciously invite you into our crime ring. Here’s the downlow: We (Gilbert Beilschmit, Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo, and Francis Bonnefoy) are bound by blood to a fuckin AWESOME Bro Code. You live in this room, you follow the Bro Code. You break the Bro Code, we make your life a living hell._

_Don’t mind him, I’m excited to have a new roommate! Of course, we’re basically the kings of King, so you can enjoy some free love and adoration just by association! I’ll also throw in some fresh veggies every week and surprise Italian cuisine if you DD for us from time to time. Usually we just play rock, paper, scissors to decide, but I lose a lot because these assholes cheat. It’d be super great if you helped me out. Thanks a ton!_

_As my cohorts said, we are genuinely glad to have you here. So long as you don’t mind nudity, minor alcoholism, off-key singing, and never getting a hot shower, you’ll do fine. And who knows, you could be the d’Artagnan to our three musketeers (but only if you’re sexy, of course). Here’s looking at you, kid. XOXO._

This had to be harassment. Irritably, he stuffed the offending letter back in his pocket and started towards the cafeteria. If they hadn’t changed the menu over the summer, Monday was seafood day. Their fish and chips were a disgrace, but Arthur needed something stable.

“Oh, Arthur, _mon cher_ , care to join me?”

Of course, he was _Arthur Fucking Kirkland_ and nothing could go ever go right for him. He stiffly turned towards one Francis Bonnefoy. Thankfully the bloke had clothes on this time. His short-sleeved shirt had too many buttons undone, showing off a hairy chest. The sleeves were also rolled up enough to show off a slight hint of toned muscle. And those stupid salmon colored shorts showed off plenty of leg. Arthur hoped he’d get a sunburn. If only the damn clouds moved out of the way. 

Francis waggled his eyebrows and gestured to the seat opposite him. These metal garden tables usually had four seats to them, but another table stole two to fit their unsightly gaggle of friends. Arthur could have declined and carried on. He _should have,_ but this almost seemed like a peace offering of sorts. Francis was the only asshole that didn’t threaten or try to exploit him. Also, the lunch crowd surged behind him, cramming their sweaty bodies into the cafeteria, carrying along a deafening cacophony.

“Hello,” Arthur sighed, taking a seat. He winced as the metal chair screeched against the brick plaza. “Bloody hell.”

“You _are_ a second-year, yes? You’ve sat down outside before?” Francis asked. He tapped his fingers on a worn film theory textbook.

He was a second-year--the American term was soft-more or something?--and, no, he had _not_ sat down on these terribly uncomfortable chairs. If he wanted to picnic or study outside, he did it on the grass. There were several shady trees just perfect for the job. “And it’s damn noisy out here,” Arthur added. They both side-eyed a guy with spiky blonde hair shriek-laugh and audibly slap his friend’s back.

Francis shrugged. “Sure, sure. It’s awfully warm out, too, isn’t it? Care to grab lunch with me?”

“The cafeteria won’t be much cooler w-with--” The words stumbled out of his mouth as Francis pulled back his hair and tied it in a loose, curly bun. Wisps of hair escaped the hair tie and framed his face. Arthur hid his embarrassment with a cough. “Excuse me. There’s a friggin’ multitude in there. It’s hardly cooler.”

“Then we’ll have to go off campus!” Francis said. If he noticed Arthur’s choke, he ignored it. Another silver lining. He quickly gathered his books and nodded down the hill, where past the academic buildings and library lay the start of downtown New Rome. Arthur also hadn’t spent much time in downtown New Rome. It looked as expensive and bougie as the city’s name suggested. “Ah, don’t worry about your wallet.” Francis winked, seemingly reading his mind. “There is a magnificent bakery off the beaten path. _Très_ chic.”

Arthur feigned disinterest just in case this little jaunt went sideways. The thought of a fresh blueberry scone, though? With a cuppa to go with it? Forget fish and chips, he wanted some carbs.

Still, as Francis rambled about the city’s beauty and the bakery’s charm, a small part of Arthur felt hopeful. Maybe this year and these roommates wouldn’t suck so bad after all.

\---

For as long as Matthew Williams could remember, he sat on the backburner in friendships, relationships, _family gatherings_. It sucked, plain and simple, but he learned to power through it. He was not a loud and proud individual. His parents raised him with an infallible sense of propriety. He had the terrible habit of apologizing for literally anything that could be conceived as annoying in any capacity.

So he hadn’t expected college to be any different, especially since his half-brother (and his brother’s step-brother, too, right? God, their family was messed up.) went here too. Matthew didn’t depend on Alfred to show him around campus; he went exploring by himself after soul-sucking orientation week activities. A few people mistook him for Alfred, which was definitely weird and awkward, but mostly everyone else just… ignored him. His first two classes of the day went similarly. It took five minutes of debate during attendance to convince his Intro to Philosophy professor that he was _not_ Alfred F. Jones, but his nearly identical younger brother. In Intro to Poetry, the professor jumped every time she saw Matthew, as if catching a ghost out of the corner of her eye.

They’d get used to him eventually, Matthew reminded himself, squaring himself up for his third and final Monday class, Biology I. This class would be better. It had to be, because he wanted to major in biology or organic chemistry, and Bio I would determine if he had the chutzpah to handle it.

Biology wasn’t another room full of freshmen--students from every level crowded in the lecture hall to knock out the lab requirement. As such, he couldn’t really find a wide open space to camp out. Matthew counted his losses and sat in the back, a seat across from a white haired guy wearing a navy Snuggie. It even had a little yellow bird embroidered on it.

Matthew stared at him too long, because he lolled his head towards Matthew and said, “It’s okay, man, I get it. I’m just so awesome, you can’t help but take it all in.”

“Ah, n-no, sorry. Just, the little bird--eh, this seat is open, right?”

“Sure thing. Folks don’t normally sit up in the nosebleed section. And what are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, squinting at Matthew. “Aren’t you a freshie? Didn’t anyone tell you to sit up front and pay attention in class?”

Alfred sure had. “If I’m all the way back here, no one will call on me to answer questions. I’m a no-participation note-taking kind of fellow,” he said with a light shrug.

“Ha! Ain’t we all. Gilbert Beilschmit,” he finally introduced himself, offering a hand.

Matthew shook it. _So far, so good?_ “I’m Matthew Williams.”

“Awesome. So I’m going to call you birdie.”

“Eh?”

But they both shut up when attendance began, trying not to miss their name in a sea of other faces.

\---

“OUT OF THE WAY, ASSHOLE!” Lovino Vargas shouted, shoving past some kid with a hipster beanie. It was fucking _hot_ outside. Why in hell would you want to wear a knit hat? Lovino seethed down the cramped hall, backpack clenched in one hand and crumpled class list in the other. Only making his sour mood worse, that dumb bitch Antonio trailed behind him, waving and smiling at anything that moved.

Signing up for this class on the top floor of the Academic building was a _mistake_. He should have put off his last math credit until later like everyone else did. But Calc classes rarely hit the mid-afternoon hour block, and he’d be damned if anyone at this fucking college got him up at eight in the morning for _math._ They were lucky Lovino bothered with gen ed courses at all. He didn’t need a degree in culinary arts to take on his folks’ restaurant back in Rome. He could outcook anyone. Feliciano wanted to study art, though, and cried like a bitch until Lovino said he’d go to the same college as him.

Then Feliciano ditched him for some potato-loving bastard. If he loved his stupid brother any less, he’d have killed him already.

“Lovi, look, there’s two open spots over here! We can sit together!” Antonio gasped, grabbing his wrist.

All bets were off with Antonio, though.

Lovino begrudgingly took the desk closest to the window in the back of the room. At least the breeze carried in some relief to this sauna of a classroom. It also lifted voices from the lawn up to the third floor. Chatter and laughter and perhaps a shriek or two swirled around his head, stirring up a headache.

Antonio tapped on his shoulder and Lovino swatted him away. “What have I told you about poking at me,” he snarled.

“I see Feliciano down there,” Toni reported, craning his neck for a better view. Making a scene, Antonio shouted, “FELI! Up here!”

Lovino slid down in his seat with a groan as his brother’s tinny voice, barely audible over the throng, shouted something back in reply. “Get your head out of the window, idiot,” he hissed to Antonio. “Holy mother of God. I’m about to drop out.”

“You can’t do that! Who else am I supposed to cheat off of in Calculus?”

“You honest-to-God think I’m _good_ at math? I was going to cheat off you!”

“Relax, ya’ll,” an irritatingly familiar voice chimed in. Lovino and Antonio respectively glared and beamed at one Alfred F. Jones. He stood before them, hands on his hips. “I’m the TA! I’ll make sure you don’t fail. Don’t give me that look, Lovi!”

“It’s _Lovino, tu idiota_.”

“Whatever,” Alfred continued. “Dr. Brown is a pushover anyway. Especially this late in the day. The dude gets on campus at, like, five every morning. He’s not gonna care about his last class of the day--YO, IS THAT FELI? FEEEEEELIIIIIIII! HEEEEEEEEEY!”

Lovino resisted the urge to get up and leave. _Just one more hour of this shit show, then I can take a nap._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, back for more! Don't expect chapters to update this quickly all the time, though. I'm riding the just-got-back-into-the-fandom high before procrastination and life go back to kicking my ass.
> 
> Just as a kind of housekeeping issue, this fic is going to be all over the place. It's very slice of life mixed in with romantic pursuits, found family, and the issues most college kids encounter. I'm not sure how long I'll stick to the format of three POVs per chapter, but while everyone and everything is getting introduced, I think this is a decent way of going about things.
> 
> There's also going to be a few warnings put up for later chapters. I'm not going into anything that would bump up the rating, but some material can be triggering and I want to keep everyone updated as we go. Tags and warnings will show up as this material pops up in each chapter. 
> 
> And finally, I want to thank everyone for commenting and leaving kudos! It's nice to see you all and I hope you continue to enjoy!


End file.
